


the sins of the father(lord)

by aceofsparrows



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofsparrows/pseuds/aceofsparrows
Summary: Zuko tells the Gaang about how he got his scar.Major spoilers (set during Book 3 finale)
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 158





	the sins of the father(lord)

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely on a post I saw about the fact that Zuko never actually told the Gaang how he got his scar…
> 
> Takes place during the finale of Book 3, so MAJOR spoilers. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Silence. No, not silence… stillness. 

Everything is still. 

He wakes in his bed– his own bed, which he hasn’t slept in in months, not since he turned against his father, not since he joined the Avatar… It all comes rushing back: the Boiling Rock, training Aang, that stupid play, dueling Azula, taking her lighting hit for Katara and passing out shortly after from the pain and exhaustion… He tries to turn over and stabbing pain pulses through his abdomen, forcing him to stay where he is. Ah yes, _taking Azula’s lighting hit._

Taking as deep a breath as he can without incurring more pain, he tries to calm his garbled mind. _Take in your surroundings one by one_ , his uncle used to tell him when he felt overwhelmed so long ago. _Focus on the things you can control, and everything else will come with time._

He wonders if Iroh succeeded in taking back Ba Sing Se. He wonders if the Avatar defeated his father. He wonders if the Avatar _killed_ his father. 

He takes another breath. 

Now that he’s focused, he realises it’s not as silent as he originally thought. He can hear voices, faintly, from the hall or perhaps a room or two away. He assumes they’re friendly; none of their enemies would just leave him– sleeping, bandaged, alive and unguarded– of that he’s sure. Wincing at the stabbing pain, he manages to roll onto his side and claw his way to the edge of the bed. He should be in there, making sure everything went according to plan, picking up the pieces of whatever shambles his father and Azula left the nation and the palace in. He should be leading, lightning wound be damned. 

He bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood, but manages to get himself standing. It’s actually not so bad once he’s upright; balance is still an issue, but he’s sure that if he moves with enough purpose he’ll manage just fine. 

Well, maybe. 

Step by step, a protective hand on his stomach, he shuffles toward the door. _Left, right, left, right_ … He leans on the door frame, catching his breath, steeling himself for the next few hundred feet. _Left, right, left, right_ … 

They’re in the sitting room just beyond, talking quietly. He can see them as he rounds the doorway, and he makes a beeline for an empty chair, head down. He’s not very graceful, though, and the dip of the floor catches him off guard, throwing him off balance. 

“Ugh…” He gives an involuntary grunt of pain as he lists sideways dangerously, and the voices stop. 

“Zuko!” Someone says his name… maybe Aang? He can’t see for sure; if he looks up right now the world might tilt again, and then he’ll definitely fall. 

“What are you doing up?” That’s Katara, tone somewhere between concern and annoyance. 

“Wanted… t’ see… talking…” His sentence is fragmented; it’s hard to breathe with the tight bandages wrapped around his abdomen, and his head is swimming. Maybe getting up wasn’t such a good idea after all… 

“Aang, help me,” Katara says quickly, and after a moment they’re on either side of him, lifting his arms to their shoulders and helping him sit in the closest chair. He closes his eyes as he settles, letting his head and body calm for a moment. When he does open his eyes, however, there they are, the Avatar and the waterbender, frowning at him with twin expressions of concern. 

“I’m okay,” he rasps. 

“No, you’re not.” Katara raises an eyebrow at him, and for a moment he sees a young Azula in her place, hands on her hips, lips twisted in a judgemental pout. He closes his eyes again, and takes another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m not. But I don’t want to waste time sleeping, so stop acting like I’m useless just because Azula decided to try and make herself an only child.” He opens his eyes again, and finds Katara has moved reluctantly back to her seat. Aang, on the other hand, is still hovering, thin fingers fiddling with the hem of the piece of cloth he’s got draped around his shoulders. 

“Katara told me what happened,” he says, eyes darting to the girl across the room before settling back on Zuko. “You could have died.” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t, thanks to her.” 

Aang smiles slightly, and Zuko watches how the relief creeps into his grey eyes. He’s reminded, forcefully, of how young the Avatar is. Aang is a child– a child who’s just saved the world. 

“My father,” Zuko starts, and Aang bites his lip. “Is he…?”

“No,” is the short and small answer, but when Zuko looks confused, Aang continues reluctantly. “I found a way to… take care of him… without killing him.” 

“How?” 

Aang hesitates, but Katara gives him a small nod as if to say _you can tell him, it’s alright._

“I took away his bending.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” He sighs, stilling his hands by twisting them tightly in the cloth. “The lion turtle showed me how to, and I just kind of… did it. I was in the Avatar state for a lot of the time; I don’t really remember much of it.” 

“That’s… wow.” Zuko’s blindsided. He had come to terms with his father’s potential death; the man hasn’t been a father to him in a long time, that’s for sure. But to take away someone’s bending? That’s something he never thought possible, and by the look of Aang’s face, it’s not something he thought possible either. 

“So what did you do with him?” Zuko asks. 

“We locked him up. It turns out the staff are pretty friendly and willing to help you if you don’t treat them like _dirt_ ,” Katara says, a bitter edge to her words. He’s reminded forcefully of that evening when they found the old Southern Raiders commander; the fear in the man’s eyes as Katara stopped the rain. She is a woman of great strength and power, and her bad side is one he would only wish upon his enemies. “We took care of Azula too. She wore herself out trying to get out of the chains, so once she passed out from exhaustion Suki and I got her tied up more properly. It’s your decision what to do with her in the long run, I guess.” 

“Thank you,” is all he can say, and Katara nods. 

“Thank you, too. You saved my life.” 

There’s a pause, a moment of stillness, but to his surprise Zuko doesn’t find it empty or lacking. There are many things that can be said without words, he’s learned, and those silent things are often some of the most important. For now, silence is necessary and welcome. 

There’s a heavy exhale from his right, and Zuko notices the rest of their little group for the first time. Sokka, sleeping heavily on a sofa with one of his legs in a splint, and the earthbender girl, Toph, snoring lightly from where she’s draped over a chair, calloused feet in the air and an arm thrown across her forehead. 

“They took out a whole fleet of airships,” Aang says, following Zuko’s gaze. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Wow.” 

“Yeah. I probably couldn’t have taken down Ozai without them; I would’ve gotten hit by the soldiers in the fleet before I could even give a fair fight.” He looks fondly at his friends, sideways smile returning. Then he scrunches up his nose, as if he’s remembering an odd smell. “Sokka lost his space sword, though. I feel kinda bad about that.” 

“It’s not your fault, Aang,” Katara reminds him gently, and his face softens.

“I know.” Aang stifles a yawn, shifting the blue blanket that’s still draped around his shoulders. 

“You should rest, Aang,” Katara says, and he nods.

“Yeah, maybe.” Wandering over to the sofa where Sokka’s still splayed out, he curls up on the carpet like a lemur-monkey, asleep almost immediately. 

“Do you want me to help you get back to your room?” Katara offers after a few minutes of silence, and Zuko shakes his head. 

“No, I’ll stay here.” He shifts (as well as he can, anyway) and leans his head back against the high back of the chair, turning over the events of the day before in his mind. “We really did it.” Zuko sighs in slight disbelief, “ _Aang_ did it. It’s all over.” 

“We did,” Katara says, and he can hear the smile in her tone. “And now we’re here.” 

“And now we’re here…” 

##  *** * ***

He must have fallen asleep, because everything is much more lively when he opens his eyes again. Sokka, Katara, and Aang are in some sort of animated discussion about panda spirits, and Toph is sitting on the floor entertaining the flying lemur-monkey with a bit of dark rock that’s some in-between of earth and metal. It’s a more celebratory atmosphere than the one he found earlier, and everyone seems to be in good spirits in the wake of their victory.

“Hey, Zuko! Welcome to the land of the living, your Firelord-i-ness,” Sokka calls out with a mocking half-bow from his seat on the floor when he notices Zuko’s awake, and the firebender chuckles weakly. 

“Thanks, Sokka. But I’m not Firelord yet.” 

“Eh, technicalities.” He shrugs, and Katara rolls her eyes. Yup, everything is definitely back to normal. 

“Now that you’re awake, I should change your bandages, Zuko,” Katara says, and Zuko nods. 

“How long was I out?” He asks as she helps him untie his robe and starts to carefully unwrap the stiff bandages. 

“Only a few hours,” Aang answers.

Sokka tilts his head. “Huh, it feels like it’s been forever.” Then he smirks. “But I guess time flies when you’re getting a hero’s treatment and lounging on fancy royal couches.” 

Katara snorts. “Well, that’s because you _slept_ for almost a whole day, Sokka.” Zuko winces as she uncovers the wound and she frowns. “Sorry…” 

“It’s fine.” 

She appraises the wound, frowning. “It looks better, but there’s still a bit of swelling around the edges. I’m gonna have to do a little work on it before I wrap it up again, I think.” She sighs, straightening up. “Can you move to the couch?” 

“I think so.” He’s unsteady on his feet, but the sleep has done him good and he makes it to the sofa with little assistance. He lays down obediently, and Katara kneels next to him, uncapping her water skein and coating her hands in water before letting them hover above his stomach and the angry red wound.

“Sorry in advance if this hurts…” She apologises, and lowers her hands as they start to glow dully with the light of the healing energy. Zuko winces at the cold contact, but after a few moments the pain dulls and lessens significantly. Satisfied the swelling has been taken care of, Katara lifts her hands away after a few minutes and replaces the water, closing her skein. 

“Well, it looks much better,” she says, beginning to rewrap the bandages. “It’s going to leave a pretty nasty scar, though. I used spirit water with Aang’s and it still looks awful.” 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I haven’t been scarred by a family member before, anyway,” he chuckles, sitting up carefully as she finishes, but he stops when he sees their faces. 

Sokka’s mouth is hanging open, which seems to be a pretty common expression for him. “I’m sorry, you _what_?!” 

“Um, no offense, but haven’t you seen my face?” Zuko asks, gesturing to his left cheekbone with his free hand. 

There’s an awkward pause, as the others seem to struggle with what he’s implying. 

“… I guess we always assumed you’d gotten it by accident?” Aang says carefully, a hand on Katara’s shoulder as she sits back on her heels. 

“Or that it was whoever hurt your mother,” Katara adds, remembering their conversation in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se. 

“Well, you were right about that part, Katara,” Zuko mutters, retying his robe slowly. “My father’s done a lot of terrible things in his time, even to his own family.” 

Katara breathes in sharply as she realises what he’s alluding to, covering her mouth with her hands, and Aang’s grip on her shoulder tightens, his jaw hard. Sokka’s still staring, his mouth now closed, and his gaze has gone cold. There’s an air of hostility, almost, but not at him, and it surprises Zuko. These people, these _kids_ that he _hunted_ for _three years_ , are protective of _him_. 

Toph, ever the blunt one of the group, speaks up from her spot on the floor a little further away. “How did it happen?” 

“Toph!” Katara admonishes her. 

“What?” She shrugs. “You’re all too _nice_ to ask, but I know you were _thinking_ it.” 

“I was thirteen,” Zuko starts slowly, drawing their attention back to him. “I had insisted I be allowed to sit in on one of my father’s war meetings. They were talking about a plan for a diversionary maneuver, and I disagreed. I shouldn’t have spoken up, but I guess I’ve always cared more about doing what’s right than doing what I should.” 

The group is watching him intently, but his eyes do not meet theirs. He’s far away, in that moment, seeing vividly the day he’s relived over and over in the last three years. The heat of the flames surrounding his father’ throne, the sneer in the tone of the general who told him to sit down and mind his place, the terror that made him heart race when he realised what he’d done. 

He shakes his head, grounding himself once more. “Not only was my opinion wrong, but I had spoken out of turn. It was a heavy offense, and my father demanded I pay a heavy price: an Agni Kai.” 

Katara still has her hands over her mouth, and Aang is frowning. Even Toph has stopped playing with Momo to listen, head down. 

“I thought I would be dueling the general I had spoken out against, but when I turned to face my opponent it was Ozai at the other end of the hall. I had openly defied him, and he would not let me get away with it. I refused to fight him, and he decided I needed to be taught a lesson with a more… permanent reminder.” He gestures again to the scar that ripples across his cheekbone, and sighs. “So that’s it. I was burned, banished, and told the only way to regain my fallen honor was by finding and capturing the Avatar.” 

Zuko nods to Aang, a small smile on his lips. “Obviously, it didn’t turn out the way my father hoped.” 

“Obviously,”Aang echoes with a familiar sideways smile, but there’s still a sadness lurking in his eyes, as if he understands the weight of the incident that Zuko still carries. 

“Hey, Aang?” They all turn, surprised by the new voice. 

“Suki!” Sokka says, trying (and failing) to stand at the sight of his girlfriend. 

“Sokka, don’t get up. Really.” She laughs, and he huffs in annoyance but stays put, accepting a quick kiss on the forehead instead. Then Suki straightens, face serious again. “Aang, can I borrow Appa?” 

Aang frowns. “Uh, sure? Why?” 

Suki grins. “I’ve got a prison warden to go talk to.” 

“Of course,” Aang says, grinning when he realises what she’s referring to. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” She waves and leaves as quickly as she came, Sokka watching her go with that dopey look he always gets around her. Zuko smirks; he knows the feeling. 

“So what’s our next move?” Sokka asks, the conversation moving on. Privately, Zuko’s relieved; for so long, his scar has made him different, marked him as someone to be feared or pitied. 

But here, among these other brave people with whom he’s found a sense of belonging, scars are not failures. Scars say you’ve survived. Scars say you are willing to try again. Scars make you stronger. 

“I think _Firelord_ Zuko has something very important to do,” Katara says, giving Zuko a respectful smile. 

“Yes, yes I do.”


End file.
